


No Rest at the Bed & Breakfast

by tehjessica



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asthmatic Dean, Community: hoodie_time, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, dean-focused h/c fic challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehjessica/pseuds/tehjessica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bobby's death, Sam and Dean commandeer the nearest car and drive until they can't drive anymore. They stop at a Bed and Breakfast for some rest, but one young ghost has other plans for the Winchesters, especially Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest at the Bed & Breakfast

Sam was tired, achy, and just plain not in the mood for driving anymore. They had just lost Bobby to a bullet. It was beyond comprehension. Bobby never should have gone out that way. It still really hadn’t sunken in yet. It was just way too surreal. Sam and his brother had both lost so much - too much. They were truly alone now. It was all Sam could think about. And Dean? Well, Dean of course wouldn’t talk about it. He hadn’t said much since they had left the hospital. If Sam knew Dean, and he did, he was sure that Dean was dealing (or not dealing with) a terrible case of denial mixed with a bout of bottled up feelings and not saying a word about it.

Speaking of Dean, he had been kissing the passenger side window for the past three hours now. Sam knew that it was definitely time to look for a place to stop for the day. He wasn’t going to get any more driving in, that was for sure, and Dean would kill him if he had to find another car to steal so soon. Sam missed the Impala. He never thought he would, but he did. And he just wished that they could have her back right now. He wished that Dean could have her and the comfort she always provided to the both of them, but especially to Dean.

Finally he came across a small bed and breakfast. It was a little above par and the price range from their usual, (frankly their usual lately reminded him more of a demilitarized zone.) but Sam was beyond caring at this point. Sam pulled into the driveway and into the small parking lot. He quickly parked and then elbowed Dean as he got out of the car. Dean just moaned and otherwise ignored Sam before going back to sleep. 

When Sam got around to Dean’s side of the car, he was still plastered to the passenger side door. If it was another time, another place where they hadn’t just lost a father for a second time, Sam would have considered opening Dean’s door and letting him fall out of the car. But, this wasn’t the time or the place. Right now he felt like it never would be again.

Sam opened the door carefully and grabbed onto Dean’s shoulder before he could topple over. “Come on Dean. I’ve driven through the night and I’m on zero sleep. I’m going to try to get us a room. Wake up.”

“Ugg! Just let me die Sammy!” Dean pushed at Sam’s hand ineffectively. 

“No more death today, Dean,” Sam said solemnly. “I can’t drive anymore, Dean. I’m beat man, and so are you. So come on.”

“Okay Sam. I’m coming – I’m coming.” Dean got out of the car gingerly. He didn’t let it show for Sam’s sake, but he felt like there wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t sore – that didn’t protest against him. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep but it was bright and quiet aside from a few birds chirping. A quick look at his phone told him that it was fast approaching seven o’clock in the morning. “Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“This isn’t a motel.”

“I know, Dean. But, I literally haven’t seen anywhere to stop in over a hundred miles. If they don’t have room here, I don’t know… we’ll sleep in the car or something,” Sam said as he approached the door. Sam knocked a couple of times praying to a God who he wasn’t sure even cared any more that there would be a room for him and his brother.

Moments later an older woman, probably in her late sixties opened the door. She wasn’t very tall. She looked about five foot and her hair was a faded orange color; most likely a more brilliant red in her past. “May I help you young man?” She asked, squinting into the early morning sun. She appeared to be friendly and looked ready for the day, which eased Sam’s fears of waking anyone up.

“Hi! I’m sorry to be bothering you so early. I’m Sam and this is Dean. I’m sorry we didn’t call ahead and make a reservation, but my brother and I have been traveling for hours and we were hoping that maybe you would have an extra room for us?” Sam asked smiling enough to show a hint of dimple. Dean always told him that when he did that all the old motherly types couldn’t help themselves. Sam would always get annoyed when Dean said that, but he was really hoping it would work for them this time.

“Oh you poor dears,” the woman said, “I’ve been renovating the place and it isn’t quite operational at the moment.” Sam’s face fell at that.

“Please don’t fret! The workers finished with one of the rooms yesterday. I’m sorry boys, it only has one bed, but I do have a cot and inflatable mattress that you could use.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You don’t know how much this means to us. I don’t know what…” 

“Not another word young man. You look tired and your brother looks like he’s about to fall asleep where he stands. Grab your things and I’ll show you to your room.”

Sam took the moment to look over at his brother who had yet to add anything to the conversation. He did look dead on his feet. “Uh Mrs…”

“Oh no, none of that Mrs. stuff! Call me Margaret.”

“Okay, Margaret. I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking Dean with you now while I get our things.”

“I’m not an invalid Sam!” Dean grumbled. 

“I know you’re not Dean, but I’m more awake than you are. Just take the bed and get some sleep, will ya?” Sam pleaded with his brother.

“Fine, fine,” Dean sighed. 

“Come along with me, I’ll show you to your room and we’ll get you some sleep,” Margaret said, leading Dean into the house. 

To be honest Sam was worried about Dean. He always counted on him to be his rock. Sam was barely holding it together. He more or less had Lucifer Television broadcasting in his brain 24/7. Now they’ve lost Bobby as well and he wasn’t sure what they were going to do anymore. He tried not to bother Dean too much about it, but he was really starting to worry about him. Dean has been telling him for years that he was tired of this gig, but for the first time Sam felt like he really meant it and Sam wasn’t going to lie; it scared the hell out of him. 

Sam grabbed the bags from the stolen vehicle and met Margaret at the door. “Thank you so much. I really can’t tell you how much this means to us.”

“Oh, Sam I told you already, no need to thank me. I’m just glad the room was finished in time so that you could use it. Follow me.” She started up a narrow staircase and Sam followed a few paces behind. She stopped at a closed door. “Now, here’s the room. There is a cot and air mattress in the closet in the corner of the room. If you need anything, just use the intercom on the table by the bed. You boys get some rest and if you’re up for it, I’ll have breakfast ready around nine o’clock.”

“Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome Sam, now I don’t want to see either one of you until you’ve both gotten some sleep!”

“Okay, okay,” Sam smiled as Margaret headed back down the stairs. “Hey Dean…” Sam started, but cut himself off when he noticed that Dean had, well, it looked like he literally face planted into the bed. Sam walked over and eased Dean’s shoes off and did his best to drape some of the blankets across him. Then Sam went to the other end of the room to set up his bed. It would be a little small, but it was going to have to work. Sam was asleep just moments after his head hit the pillow.

Dean may have been exhausted, but he slept restlessly, tossing back in forth in the bed. His brain wouldn’t leave him alone. He was plagued by dreams of death; of Bobby and Castiel. To lose them both and so close together, Dean would never admit it, but he did feel the loss greatly. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it and his dreams wouldn’t leave him alone at night. They tormented him and he was sure Sam would question him again soon. The last think he wanted to do was worry Sam; he had enough of his own problems to deal with.

Dean woke up disoriented a couple of hours later. He had a short moment of panic before his eyes finally rested on Sam. He breathed a sigh of relief although it was short lived as everything came flooding back to him. Sam and Dean had stolen a car after Bobby had died and just kept driving; this bed and breakfast was where they ended up. Dean heard a light knock on the door.

“Yes?” Dean asked, opening the door a crack. He looked down and saw Margaret’s smiling face. Her entire demeanor was friendly.

“Hello, dear. I was just wondering if you two were up and interested in some breakfast?” Margaret asked, looking up at Dean. She was happy to see the other man awake. He hadn’t said more than a few words to her when the two boys had arrived earlier. He didn’t look much better than earlier, but he did look a little more rested. The curious side of her wondered what these brothers’ story was. They were young, but their eyes were old. 

“Definitely!” Dean answered, bringing himself to smile a little. But, I should probably let Sam sleep. He’s the one who drove all through the night.” Dean felt badly about that fact, but he knew he was in no shape to drive.

“I’m awake, Dean,” Sam cut in. He hoisted himself up into a sitting position on the bed.

“Okay then boys. Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes,” Margaret said before heading back down the stairs.

“Sam, are you sure you don’t want more sleep? You don’t have to make nice with the lady just because she gave us a room. I’m sure she would understand.” Dean didn’t like the frown lines between Sam’s eyes.

“I’m fine, Dean! I’m not the one who looks like he got punched in the face!” Dean really didn’t look good. He had light bruising under both of his eyes which would always scare Sam so much, causing him to flash back to when Dean had that heart attack and was so sick. It always made him feel scared that he would lose Dean again. No matter how many times Dean died or how many people were taken from them, it was always hardest for him to live in a world without his brother. He could survive without Dean, he knew that, but Sam didn’t really consider his life in a world without Dean, living.

“What are you talking about? I look amazing and I’m a joy to be around!” Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly. Dean was making an effort, Sam just couldn’t decide if that was actually a good thing or not.

Sam went into the adjoining bathroom, needing to relieve himself before heading down to breakfast. After taking care of his business, Sam looked in the mirror; there were still bags under his eyes. He splashed some water on his face and sighed. It was time for him to face the world. When he came out of the bathroom, he was surprised to see Dean lying on the bed. “Dean? Are you okay?”

“Sorry Sam. I’m more tired than I thought. Go have breakfast without me. I’m sure I can grab something later.”

“Okay, if you’re sure Dean.” Sam was worrying again. That seemed to be all he could do lately when it came to his brother. Dean had been sleeping a lot these days. Hopefully he just needed the sleep and there wasn’t some bigger problem like an illness coming on. That was the last thing Dean needed right now. “I’m sure, Sammy. I’ll catch ya later, dude.” And with that Dean buried his face into the pillow.

“Dean…” Sam sighed, leaving the room. Sam took a moment to observe his surroundings which he was too tired to do before. The house was old, but not terribly so. He imagined it was probably built in the early 1960s. It wasn’t a huge house, Sam didn’t want to snoop, but he imagined when Margaret got the place up and running it could probably hold a small number of guests. As far as he could tell there was nothing around here, but he imagined that a quiet place in the middle of nowhere is paradise for some people. Maybe something he and Jess would have enjoyed in their later years if he had lived a different life.

When he reached the bottom of the steps he was greeted by Margaret. “Hey Sam! You’re looking much better. Where’s your brother?”

“He wanted to get more sleep. I guess he was more tired than he thought.” Sam tried, but he figured he probably failed, to hide the concern for his brother from his face.

“I hope he’s not coming down with something. Do you think he’s ill?” Margaret asked, apprehension written across her face.

Sam hesitated. He didn’t know how much of his problems he should divulge to a complete stranger, but at the same time it would be nice to talk to someone. It wasn’t as if he could give Bobby a call anymore or say a quick prayer to Cas. “Um, well I don’t think so. You see, we just lost someone. He was like a father to us. Dean he just – he won’t face what happened. He just keeps shutting down more and more and when I try to talk to him about it, he always blows me off or changes the subject. He also lost a friend, well he was my friend too, but he was especially close to Dean, probably the best friend he ever had. To be honest, I think Dean isn’t dealing very well. But, I don’t want to unload our problems on you. Sorry about that.” Sam didn’t know why, but he felt like he could talk to this woman, but that didn’t mean he should blab his family’s problems to the first person who would listen. Plus he was starting to ramble, which was not his intention. He didn’t want to plague this kind woman with his issues.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m not trying to patronize you, Sam, but losing someone is never easy. I lost my husband a couple of months ago, which is why I moved here. The house was getting too quiet. I thought I’d go crazy. I saw this place and I could picture how beautiful it would look. I wanted to open it up to other people, so they could have a peaceful place to get away from it all. Sorry, I’m getting a little carried away.” She paused and took a good look at the young man in front of her. He looked like he was barely holding on himself. She wagered Dean wasn’t the only one having trouble dealing with their recent loss. “Sam, I want you to know that you and your brother can stay here as long as you need. Just don’t give up on your brother. I imagine he’ll come to you eventually when he feels that he can.”

“I don’t know if he will. But, you don’t have to worry. I’ll never leave him alone. He’s my brother, you know? There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him,” Sam said sincerely, showing a little bit of dimple.

“Well, I think with you he’ll be just fine! I hope you like pancakes Sam, I think I made enough for a small army!” Margaret said, leading him into the dining room. The table could sit eight people and there was antique chandelier hanging from the ceiling above the middle of the table. The table itself looked like it was made of high quality wood and the chairs were antique. Sam imagined that they may have even been made by Quakers. Sam carefully took the seat closest to the doorway. Sam and Dean were trained by their father to always be close to the first available exit. They never knew when they might have to pick up and run.

Margaret set a plate in front of Sam loaded with pancakes, eggs, sausage, and bacon. He appreciated the gesture, but he really wasn’t all that hungry. “This looks great Margaret, thanks.” He may not have been hungry, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. He recalled that Dean would occasionally cook for them when he was younger, but it wasn’t something Dean liked to do. He preferred take out and mom and pop diners. 

Dean often ate like he hadn’t seen food in a long time. Sam imagined that was partly because he loved food so much, but also because he had sacrificed so much for Sam when they were children. He always made sure Sam had a full stomach ahead of himself. Sam didn’t realize all of the sacrifices that Dean made for him when they were younger, but he could appreciate it now. If Dean wanted to eat at every Big Gerson’s in the United States, Sam would let him.

 

Dean opened his eyes with a start. He wished that he would stop waking up like that. It was disorienting and annoying. Finally, he was able to identify what had disturbed him. There was a banging noise coming from the closet. Dean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, slipped out of bed, and grabbed his gun from his bag before approaching the door. He opened it slowly, ready for action.

“Ahh!” He yelled as something rushed past him. Looking around he realized it was just a rat. He breathed a sigh of relief, when suddenly the open door hit him from behind and threw him into the closet. “Okay, not normal. Not normal!” Dean said. 

Suddenly a little boy materialized in front of him. This is when Dean noticed that while he may be in the closet; his gun didn’t make it in with him. Before he had a chance to say anything to the ghost, he realized that he was having trouble catching his breath. He felt like his lungs were tightening on him.

‘What’s going on here?’ he thought. ‘I’m not panicking am I? I’m not panicking!’ Dean heard a rattling coming from his chest. ‘Oh God! I can’t breathe! What’s wrong with me?’ Dean collapsed to the floor. He reached up to the door knob, trying to get the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. As a last effort he started beating his fists against the hard wood surface of the heavy closet door.

 

Sam doesn’t eat eggs very often, but that’s what he’s eating when he hears a thump followed by loud pounding coming from the floor above. Both Margaret and Sam shot up from their chairs at the sound. Sam knocked the chair over as he jumped to his feet. “Dean!” Sam exclaimed, running for the stairs. He took them two at a time and he could hear Margaret making her way up behind him.

Sam flung the door open and rushed inside. “Dean! Dean where are you? What’s happening? Are you okay?” He cursed when he saw Dean’s gun on the floor. He grabbed it quickly and tucked it into the back of his jeans under his shirt in hopes that Margaret wouldn’t notice it. “Dean!” Sam yelled again, scanning the room desperately.

“Sam?” He heard faintly followed by a quite thump on the closet door. “Sam – Sam, I can’t breathe.” Sam’s heart started racing. “I’m coming Dean!” He tried the door knob and was surprised to see that the door opened without trouble. He wondered why Dean hadn’t done that himself. The possibilities shot fear through his system. If Dean couldn’t open the door which had opened for him so easily, something could be seriously wrong with his brother! At first he didn’t see Dean. Sam’s eyes were racing franticly trying to locate his brother. Then, he heard a terrible wheezing sound coming from the floor.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, collapsing to his knees. He grabbed Dean by his shoulders and hoisted him up a little so that he was also on his knees. “What’s wrong Dean? What happened?” Sam was anxious. Dean sounded terrible and it appeared like he was having trouble focusing on Sam. “Are you hurt?”

“Don’t. Know. What’s. Wrong! Can’t get enough. Air!” Dean struggled to get out, hands flailing and then grasping weakly at Sam’s shirt. Dean’s lips were starting to take on a bluish hue.

“I don’t know what to do, Dean. I don’t know what to do. Should I call 911?” This was so not good! Sam tried to get up to scramble to his phone which had fallen out of his pocket in his rush to get to Dean. He shook his head weakly and tightened his hands in Sam’s shirt.

“Sam, does your brother have his inhaler on him?” Sam looked behind him in surprise. He had completely forgotten about Margaret. She looked one hundred percent more calm than Sam felt.

“He doesn’t have an inhaler,” Sam countered. “He doesn’t have asthma!”

“Listen honey, it sounds like an attack to me. Try to get him to calm down. I have an inhaler in the medicine cabinet.” She quickly left the room. 

Sam turned his attention back to Dean. “Hey Dean. Hey. Hey, are you still with me, man?” Sam was concerned; Dean’s eyes were almost blank. Sam shook him a little. Dean gazed at him for a moment before dropping his gaze listlessly. “Dean, I need you to look at me. I need you to focus. Keep looking at me, okay Dean? Now I want you to try to breathe with me, okay?” Dean nodded weakly. “Okay man, in and out. Just in and out. It’s okay Dean. Go slowly.” Sam did not like the awful wheezing noise coming from his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me you had asthma Dean? Why didn’t I know?” Sam knew he was on the edge of sounding hysterical, but he was doing his best to keep his emotions at bay for his brother’s sake.

“Don’t… have…asthma… Sammy.” Dean wheezed out, grip loosening slightly on Sam’s shirt.

“Don’t you stop breathing, Dean. Don’t stop breathing. Don’t you dare. We’re getting you help. You’ll be okay.” Sam was about to yell out to Margaret to hurry with the medicine when she rushed in the room and came up beside him. 

“Here,” she said, handing the inhaler to Sam. “It’s all ready to go. Get him to take a couple of puffs. If that doesn’t help we’ll go from there.” Margaret indicated the cell phone in her hand, 9-1-1 already punched in. Sam took the inhaler and held it up to Dean’s face. Dean tried to make a grab for it, but he started to lose his balance, so he grabbed back on to Sam. Sam took matter into his own hands, putting the end of the inhaler into Dean’s mouth and squeezed the canister down. “Breathe deep and slow Dean.” Margaret said.

Dean struggled to do as he was told and then Sam and Dean repeated the process. Dean gradually calmed down. His breaths were getting deeper and he started coughing as the medicine aided in helping him to clear his lungs. Sam realized that he too was breathing easier. He shot a look to Margaret. He felt his eyes water a little.

“He’s going to be just fine Sam. He’ll probably be tired. Asthma attacks tend to take a lot out of a person. Why don’t I help you get him over to the bed?” Margaret grabbed one of Dean’s arms and Sam hauled Dean up, both hands under his brother’s arms. They lead him over to the bed and Sam helped him to settle in. Dean turned on to his side, the fingers on his left hand digging into his pillow. Margaret covered his brother with the sheets and blankets. “I’ll leave you two alone, don’t hesitate to find me if you need anything,” she said, leaving the room.

Sam looked over at his brother, Dean’s breathing was still a little abnormal and he coughed heavily every few seconds, but it sounded like the gunk in his lungs was working its way out. “Dean,” Sam waited for his brother to turn over in the bed and make eye contact, “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had asthma? It isn’t something to be ashamed of. I would have made sure to have a backup inhaler on me at all times, just in case.”

“Sam,” Dean paused to cough, “I’m telling you, dude. I don’t have asthma!” Dean was frustrated, bewildered, and though he’d never admit it, he was a little freaked out. Other than the times where various baddies (or his own brother) decided to choke him, he could not remember ever having such difficulty breathing. Asthma simply was not something Dean had ever dealt with.

“Maybe you had it when you were younger Dean, and you grew out of it.” Sam didn’t know a lot about asthma, but he did recall one of his friends in college talking about having a terrible time with asthma when he was a child, but as he got older he rarely suffered from any asthmatic symptoms anymore.

“I think I’d remember, Sammy.” He gave Sam a pointed look. “Besides, I think something else is at work here. Unless I’ve completely lost it – don’t laugh – we’ve got ourselves a good ol’ haunted house situation,” Dean sighed. “And just when I was hoping for two seconds of down time.” 

“What Dean? What did you see?” ‘Just the last thing we need!’ Sam thought, frowning. ‘No proper mourning time for us,’ he resigned.

“Well, I heard a sound coming from the closet, so I grabbed my gun, opened the door, next thing I know the door is closing and shoving me in there. I see this kid, you know, not looking real good, kind of bluish. Then, I smell something weird, like smoke, but not normal fire smoke and I can’t breathe. Kid disappears just in time for the party to start. I’ve got nothing, Sam. Did you smell anything when you found me?”

“No, nothing Dean. But, to be honest I was more focused on you than the general setting.” Amateur mistake maybe, but Sam didn’t notice anything off, well, other than his big brother suffocating on the floor. “I was a little preoccupied.” Sam reached behind him. “Here’s your gun by the way. I grabbed it before Margaret could see it.”

Dean took the gun and put it under his pillow. “I’m going to put some salt down, and then I guess we’ll have to question Margaret. I’m thinking not everything is as happy around here as she makes it out to be.”

“You really think she has something to do with this?” Sam asked, surprise written across his face.

“You’ve been snowed in the past, bro,” Dean reminded Sam, his lips forming a grim line.

‘Oh, low blow,’ Sam thought, wincing internally. He ignored it for the moment though. “I know Dean, but when I talked to her during breakfast she had said she’d just moved here recently. Not saying she couldn’t be responsible, but I don’t think it’s likely.”

“Still, she might know something,” Dean insisted. He got up from the bed only to fall back down again.

“Dean!” Sam shouted running over. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay Sam.” Dean smiled, he hoped, reassuringly. 

“Right, that’s why you just fainted!” Sam responded, not convinced. 

“I don’t faint!” Dean insisted. “I just felt a little light headed. No more heart to heart Sam, we’ve got work to do,” Dean said, getting back up again with better success this time. He made his way over to his bag, grabbed the salt and started trailing it across the doorways and windowsills. 

“But, shouldn’t you be resting? You did just have some kind of supernatural asthma attack.” Dean still looked a little winded to Sam and he couldn’t help feeling uneasy. Dean had enough weighing down on him. He didn’t need some kind of supernatural chronic condition exacerbating things.

“Look Sam, I’m not going to let some little punk kid ghost get the drop on me. We’ll solve this case, then we’re going to find somewhere else to stay where I can drink until I forget there was a time when I actually enjoyed this job. The sooner we get this thing the sooner that can happen. Are you with me?” Dean questioned, almost pleading with Sam.

“I’m with you.” Sam resigned himself. If Dean was going to be stubborn, Sam was going to make sure he wasn’t doing it alone. As infuriating as Dean could be at times, often it was just better to give in than to argue. It didn’t mean that Sam wasn’t going to keep a close eye on his brother though.

They found Margaret downstairs in the living room watching some midday soaps. “Sam. Dean. Do you need something? Is he okay?” She said, looking over to Dean while muting the TV.

“Yes, yes. I’m okay. Thank you,” Dean assured her. “Now I know this may sound strange, but I have to ask you, have you ever noticed anything weird in this house?”

“Weird like how?” She asked, clearly surprised. 

“We mean like strange noises, cold spots,” Sam began to list.

“Ghosts!” Dean interrupted.

“Ghosts?” Margaret asked, incredulously at the same time Sam shouted, “Dean!”

“Calm your face, Sam. It might stay that way!” Dean grinned to himself and made a face at his brother.

“Jerk!”

Margaret looked between the two boys, clearly amused by their banter. She would have let it continue, but she wanted to know why they thought her house was haunted. “What do you mean by ghosts Dean? I’ve never heard or seen anything strange here. Did you see or hear something that would make you think the house is haunted?” Margaret asked carefully.

“You mean, you don’t think I’m crazy? I don’t have to go through that whole “vampires, ghosts, demons, all kinds of uglies that go bump in the night are real,” spiel so people can look at me like I’m crazy only to later be proven right? We’re just going to skip all that?” Dean asked more than a little surprised. He never met too many people outside of the business who really believed any in the supernatural. Most people were able to talk themselves out of almost anything, even when they came face to face with it.

“I’m just surprised,” Margaret paused, gathering her thoughts. “It’d kind of be hypocritical of me to say there are no such things as ghosts and that oxygen deprivation may have gotten to your head.” She smiled at Dean, letting him know that she did not think that was the case at all.

“Why? Have you seen something after all?” Sam asked.

“Not here, no.” Margaret continued, looking thoughtful. She wasn’t sure whether she should continue, but since Sam and Dean did believe in the supernatural, than perhaps they would be accepting of this as well. “I don’t know what you boys think about angels, but I saw one about six months ago, before my husband died and I moved here.” Margaret made eye contact with the brothers, trying to gage their reaction.

“An angel?” Dean questioned. Margaret didn’t think he looked skeptical, but he did look a little sad. “Yes, in fact I would have mentioned it to you or Sam earlier, but I wouldn’t think you would believe me. Just some crazy old lady! Anyway, I remember hearing a rustling that sounded like wings, and then I saw him. I would have thought intruder of course, but one second there was nothing there and the next he was standing in front of me. He told me he was an angel of the Lord and then he handed me the inhaler I gave Dean earlier, he told me to hold on to it - that it would be of great use someday and then he just disappeared. Well, I had my physical evidence, I never had an asthma attack a day in my life, but I wasn’t about to question instruction given to me by a messenger of God no matter how strange I may have thought it to be at the time!”

“Dean…” Sam said quietly. A shadowed look came over Dean’s face. Sam looked at him sympathetically and then continued, “Was… was he wearing a beige trench coat and a crappy tie? Kind of looked like a tax accountant?” Sam questioned gently, eyes still on his brother.

“Why yes!” Margaret said, clearly surprised. “How did you know?”

“Just a wild guess. He was… he was our friend.” Sam explained.

“Was?” Margaret questioned.

“Yeah. He died.” Dean said, a tone of voice that held more emotions than Sam could hope to identify and showing more of himself than Dean usually would let himself show. Dean ran a frustrated hand over his head and through his hair before taking a seat on the other end of the couch where Margaret was sitting. She looked at him sadly. “I’m sorry, dear,” She said quietly. Dean nodded at her, a sad smile briefly coming across his face.

“Dean, he saved you!” Sam exclaimed with a small smile. “I don’t know how he knew, but he knew!” Sam looked up. “Thank you, Cas,” he said quietly.

Dean frowned. There would be no more communication to Cas that way anymore. “Okay, okay.” Dean said. “Let’s focus on what’s going on here now. Okay?” Dean really wished he had some alcohol. He wasn’t going to have another conversation about Cas with Sam right now. Castiel was a dark painful hole in his life. His betrayal still hurt, what he did to Sam, still hurt. When he thought of Castiel’s last moments, pleading with Dean and expressing his sorrow – Dean still didn’t know how he felt about all of that. He did know one thing, losing his friend really messed him up and despite his mixed up feelings regarding Cas, he does feel the loss, more than he’ll ever admit to Sam. It wasn’t something he was ready to deal with yet, maybe not ever.

Sam sighed, “Okay, Dean.” He turned to Margaret. “Do you know anything about the history of this house?” Sam had to admit to himself that it was kind of nice to be able to ask questions and not have to pretend to be someone else for once. He couldn’t help but think that if Castiel saw fit to visit this woman, months before his death, they must be meant to be here, to help her out. That must also mean that Castiel probably thought there was a fairly good chance that he wouldn’t live through everything he had planned. Sam’s heart lurched as he realized that it was very possible that Dean would have died outside of that closet today if it wasn’t for Castiel’s intervention. It just wasn’t something Sam wanted to think about right now. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know too much, dear,” She frowned. “I do know that no one has been in this house for about five years. The reason why I was having work done, was because there had been some smoke damage. There was some kind of electrical fire in the room down the hall from your own. That room is still being repaired as there was actual fire damage to it. Nothing too terrible, but I guess there was a quite an awful smell for some time, which is why I figured the previous owner moved out.” Her eyes widened as the thought suddenly occurred to her. “Do you think someone died in that fire? Oh how awful! I never noticed anything before though. Why now?”

“Most likely the ghost was disturbed by the remodeling,” Dean said, rejoining the conversation. “I’ll tell you what I saw. I woke to pounding on the closet door, so I went to investigate. I saw a little boy, next thing I know I smell something awful and I can’t breathe. I’m guessing that’s your electrical fire.”

“That’s terrible!” Margaret exclaimed. “I know I was getting the place for cheap, but I thought that was just because the previous owners had it on the market for so long and didn’t think they could get too much for a place with some fire damage. I really wasn’t given any indication that anyone died here. How awful!” Margaret looked distressed.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I imagine that isn’t the kind of thing a person looking to sell would mention. I guess we’re going to have to do some research. Sammy?” Dean looked over to Sam, he was already heading up the stairs.

“Way ahead of ya, dude. Just let me grab my laptop.” Sam started taking the steps two at a time.

“Be careful, Sam. Do you have your gun?” Dean asked. Sam paused and looked back at his brother.

“Gun?!” Margaret gasped looking between the two boys.

“Just a precaution, ma’am.” Dean explained. He looked to Sam expectantly. 

“Yes, Dean. I’m not exactly new at this. Besides you’re the one who left his under his pillow!” Sam chastised. 

“What?” Dean asked, clearly surprised. “No I didn’t!” He reached along his back. It wasn’t there. Sam was right. Sam grinned at him. “Shuddup!” Dean said. “Grab it for me while you’re up there, why don’t you?” 

When Sam came back down with both Dean’s gun and his laptop, Dean and Margaret were drinking some tea and there were some chocolate chip cookies on the small table in front of the couch. Margaret eyed the gun wearily. 

“You should try one, Sam.” Dean said, jamming an entire cookie in his mouth, “They’re delicious!” He continued, with a full mouth.

“You’re so gross, Dean!” Even after all these years, Dean still had to act like a child, Sam thought. Oh well, it was nice to see him smile and actually mean it for once. Sam handed Dean his gun, which Dean quickly concealed from Margaret’s nervous eyes, and set his laptop on the table. He reached for a cookie and began to nibble on it. “These are good!” He exclaimed. “Thank you, Margaret!” 

“You’re welcome, dear. I set out some tea for you as well,” She looked at Dean and then continued, “I just want to let you know that I’m sincerely sorry that my house decided to attack you, young man, and I will do anything that I can in order to help you boys.”

“It wasn’t this house, it was that ghost. We don’t mind help on the research, but you should really let us take care of the ghost. It’s kind of our job,” Dean explained.

“Your job?” She questioned. “So, you boys are like the Ghostbusters?” She asked, giving Dean and amused look.

Dean laughed at that. “No, nothing nearly as rewarding, but yeah basically. Sam and I were raised taking care of problems like this. Don’t worry. We’ll take care of this all before we leave and you’re ready to open for guests properly,” He reassured her.

“Okay, just please be careful. I don’t want any more death in this house,” Margaret said, looking a little distraught. 

“Oh, I think Cas kind of made sure of that. Thanks for listening to him by the way. His people skills were never the best.” Dean smiled fondly in memory.

“Like I said, I really felt like I couldn’t ignore an angel of the Lord. And after all, all he did was ask me to hold on to an inhaler. It wasn’t like he told me I would be with child and he would save the world!” Margaret laughed.

“Hmm, we know that angel too.” Sam added, but did not continue further. He didn’t think it was his place to share the Gabriel had died as well.

“Really? Wow! You two must have amazing lives,” Margaret said.

“Not so amazing really,” Dean downplayed. “Sam, any idea where to get started?”

“I figured I’d use my powers of google-fu, Dean,” Sam joked.

“Right. Okay, geek. Hit me with it.” Sam did just as asked. He picked up the lap top and hit Dean in the arm with it. Margaret laughed while Dean just gave Sam a look.

“Okay, okay.” Sam said, setting his laptop back on the table. He began typing. He paused as his eyes scanned over the computer screen. “I think I found something!” He said excitedly.

Dean looked over at Sam’s face. His brother was really in his element. Dean was glad that even after all these years, and all that they had been through, Sam being able to do something as simple as a little internet research could still bring him a little joy. “Well? Why don’t you share with the class?”

“Okay! I found this old newspaper article. The fire at the house was mentioned. And the timing is right because it happened about five years ago. So get this, the house was owned by doctor Phillip Levi and his wife Irene. They had an eight year old son named Jacob. According to the article, there was an electrical fire that started in one of the walls. The father was at work at the time and the mother was taking the dog for a quick walk. As she made her way back to the house, she smelled the smoke and ran inside, looking for her son, but it was already too late. She found him in the closet of his room. It wasn’t the fire that got him, but…”

“An asthma attack.” Dean interrupted.

“Yahtzee!” Sam continued. “Everyone figured that the boy was scared of the fire and hid in the closet, and that the door must have been locked before he hid in there, so when he couldn’t breathe he wasn’t able to get out of there to get to his inhaler.”

“So, the police didn’t think the mother was responsible?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t see anything like that here in the article. The mother was questioned and there was no history of abuse, so they ruled the death as accidental.” Sam explained, squinting at the computer screen.

“That’s heartbreaking!” Margaret exclaimed, joining in on the conversation. “What a terrible thing to happen to that poor little boy! But, I don’t understand. Why would he come after you?” It was a horrible thing to happen and a traumatic way to die, but Margaret couldn’t understand why the boy would want to attack Dean. He was not in the least bit responsible for Jacob’s death.

“Uh, most likely it doesn’t have anything to do with me personally,” Dean explained. “Ghosts don’t always remember things quite right and they’re often angry because of it or any number of reasons. We don’t always know to be honest.” Dean said, a little frustrated that he couldn’t provide Margaret with a better answer. The truth was, he and Sam just didn’t know. Ghost never acted rationally. He imagined death could do that to a person.

“So what can we do?” Margaret asked. Margaret knew she didn’t want a ghost in her house and she was hoping there was a way that they could put the poor boy to proper rest.

“Next, is finding out where the kid is buried,” Dean said grimly. “Any idea, Sam?”

Sam frowned, “I’ve got nothing. This is the only article I could find mentioning the family specifically.”

“Well, that is something I can help you with,” Margaret said. “There’s only one cemetery in the area that would fit the timing of the boys death, so there’s a good chance that’s where the child was buried. I do have to ask though, why do you need to know where he was buried?”

“We gotta salt and burn the bones.” Dean explained.

Margaret looked like she wanted to say more. Sam decided to intervene. “It’s the best method we know of to get rid of spirits.”

“Yeah,” Dean added. “Unfortunately proton packs are still not legal or readily available.” Dean had that smile on his face where he thought he was being hilarious and that Sam probably didn’t approve. But, to Dean that made it all even better. “It’s a plan anyway,” Dean continued. “Unfortunately with our luck, it doesn’t always work, but salting and burning the bones is a good place to start.”

“We’re not exactly known for our good luck.” Sam explained, frowning.

“So, should I head for the hills if I ever see the Mystery Machine coming up the road?” Margaret joked, mirth in her eyes.

“’67 Chevy Impala,” Dean corrected, smiling. “But, close.” Man, how Dean missed that car! Being separated from her for any length of time never sat right with Dean and this is the longest he can ever remember being away from her besides from when he was in hell. She was more than just a car, she was his constant companion and the only real home he’s had since he was four years old. Not having her was like losing a limb.

“We’ll have to wait until tonight,” Sam said. “Grave robbing is another thing that’s still unfortunately illegal.”

“I prefer the term “grave exhuming,”” Dean said grinning, making quotes with his fingers. “They never make our job easy, do they Sam?” 

Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly. There was still a good amount of time before dusk, so Sam and Dean went back up to their room to get some research in. Sam was looking through Bobby’s contacts, arguing with himself about whether he should try to contact any of them as he flipped through the pages.

Dean kept himself busy, borrowing Sam’s laptop and wracking his brain trying to figure out what the numbers meant that Bobby had left on Sam’s hand. Sadly, he was able to rule out many things and he was starting to run out of ideas. He decided he would give a call to Frank later. The guy was overly paranoid, even for their line of business. But, maybe he could be persuaded (Monetarily, Dean imagined) to do a little research through his many resources. That wasn’t a phone call he was looking forward to, but Dean just wasn’t getting anywhere on his own.

When the time came, Sam and Dean headed out to the cemetery that Margaret told them about. It was about ten miles down the road. They advised her that she should spend a few hours in town which was twenty five miles in the other direction. Margaret told them she would catch a movie she had wanted to see, and promised that she would not return to the house until she heard from either Sam or Dean.

The cemetery wasn’t in the best shape. It may have been at one point, but it looked like it hadn’t had any kind of upkeep in quite some time. Margaret informed them that the town started using a newer cemetery a few years ago. It took them about half an hour to locate the grave. They dug it up in silence, neither one having much to say, too lost in their own heavy thoughts.

They were a few feet down when Dean started to cough. “Do you smell that?” He stopped shoveling and looked at Sam, wiping a hand across his sweaty brown.

“Smell what?” Sam asked. “I don’t smell anything,” Sam said, looking around him, stilling as took a few deep breaths. He shrugged at Dean.

“Let’s hurry,” Dean said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Okay, Han Solo.” Sam replied, shoveling again, a little faster despite his protesting muscles. Dean finally hit the casket with his shovel. Sam and Dean broke it opened and hefted themselves out of the hole. Sam grabbed his gun while Dean started pouring lighter fluid and salt over the bones. 

All of the sudden Sam pitched face first into Dean’s chest. Dean quickly grabbed onto Sam’s arms, steadying him. “Sam? What are you doing? What happened?” Dean shouted, concerned. That’s when he saw it just beyond Sam’s shoulder. The ghost followed them back to his bones. Sam got back on his feet with Dean’s help. “Sam! Behind you!” 

Sam spun around and shot the ghost full of salt rounds. The ghost flickered out and disappeared. Sam never liked when they had to deal with children ghosts. It went against everything in him to shoot a gun at someone so small. He knew Dean always thought they were super creepy, but that he especially hated these kind of cases too. The death of a child, especially a traumatic one was bad enough; it was kind of like adding insult to injury when Sam and Dean had to essentially “kill” the child again. 

Sam kept a watchful eye on the surrounding area so that Dean could take care of the bones. Only Dean wasn’t taking care of the bones. When Sam looked over toward his brother, he saw him on the ground breathing erratically. Jacob rematerialized next to where Dean was kneeling. “Dean!” Sam yelled, rushing over to his brother after shooting another round into the ghost. “Where’s the inhaler, Dean?” Sam put a concerned hand on Dean’s shoulder, worry lines written across Sam’s face.

“Don’t…worry…about it… Sammy. Take out… that kid.” Dean wheezed. Sam knew it wouldn’t do any good to protest no matter how much he wanted to, so he grabbed the lighter off the ground. He attempted to light it. Of course it wouldn’t work for him, not when he needed it to most. Dean was wheezing and gasping for breath. “Where’s the inhaler?” Sam yelled again in frustration, still trying to get the lighter to work. Angry tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. 

“Didn’t…bring it with me…Sam.” Dean answered, sounding weaker than Sam would have liked.

“Okay, okay Dean. You just keep breathing. Don’t you dare stop or I’ll kill you myself!” Sam commanded. “You hear me, Dean?” He was still flicking the lighter. His fingers were starting to hurt and his heart was pounding in his ears.

“I…hear you,” Dean replied quietly, trying his best to regulate his breathing. He was losing strength though and could no longer maintain even his kneeling position and he fell to the ground, curling on to his side. His fingers curled into the grass and his eyes rolled up into his head. His head fell limply to the ground, facial features going flat.

“Dean! Oh God! Don’t be dead Dean, don’t be dead!” Sam pleaded, a tear finally breaking loose. At that moment he got a flame from the lighter. “Thank God!” He said, throwing it into the grave. The bones went up in flames. Jacob showed up again, screaming as he burned out. “Dean!” Sam yelled turning Dean over on to his back. To Sam’s surprise, Dean opened his eyes and sat up quickly, coughing. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders supporting him while he coughed. 

“I’m okay, Sammy,” Dean assured him. “Just had to catch my breath.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked worriedly. “Do you need the inhaler? You just stay right here Dean and I’ll drive back to the house and get it for you.” Sam made a move to get up and do just that.

“I’m fine Sam.” Dean reiterated. He grabbed onto his brother, hoisting himself back onto his feet. “Like I said, just had to catch my breath. Looks like he took his asthma with him,” Dean said taking a much easier breath of relief. “You did good, Sammy.” Dean smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder.

“Just don’t do it again, Dean. We’ve lost too many people recently,” Sam said sadly.

Dean looked over to Sam, raising an eyebrow. He nodded once shortly before grabbing the supplies and heading back to their acquired vehicle. Sam got out his phone and made a call to Margaret as he followed Dean back to the car. 

“Margaret? Yeah. We got him. We’re okay. We’d like to spend another night if you don’t mind, just to make sure.” Sam listened to whatever Margaret said and beamed, dimples showing. “Of course! Thank you!”

Dean and Sam got into the car and started to make their way back to the Bed and Breakfast. “Dean, she said we are more than welcome to spend another night and she isn’t even going to charge us for it!” Sam said, happily. “We deserve a little bit of a break, a real one this time.”

“That’s great, man. But only one more night, Sammy. We’ve got to figure out what those numbers from Bobby meant and find a way to destroy freakin’ Dick Roman,” Dean said determinedly. 

“Okay Dean. We’ll figure out something. We owe it to Bobby.” Sam knew that tonight would probably be their only reprieve for a long time. He was glad that they were able to take advantage of it. They had a long way to go, but for tonight - tonight they could rest.


End file.
